


Hustle

by ricky_goldsworth



Series: 500 words for 500 followers [4]
Category: Buzzfeed - Fandom
Genre: M/M, but here we are, feeling pretty weird about it, okay this is the first time i've posted literally the first thing in a ship tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 06:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14442969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricky_goldsworth/pseuds/ricky_goldsworth
Summary: The four of them brush past the entire line, turn every head and meet every scandalised eye, give the bouncer their most disinterested nods.He steps aside.





	Hustle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poiregourmande](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poiregourmande/gifts).



> If you got here by googling yourself, hit the back button now! If you got here some other way, I have a tumblr at [ricky-goldsworth](https://ricky-goldsworth.tumblr.com/post/173325324969/prompt-ariando-winking-and-knees-weak).

It’s Aria’s turn to be the one tonight. He’s wearing a leather jacket and big sunglasses, face impassive, walking slow with a sway to his hips that says  _ I’m hot shit _ and has Fernando’s mouth dry. Christian has a hand on his arm, walking a half-step in front with a hard expression on his face, and Fernando and Eric are at his sides, talking loudly about nothing with their swagger at maximum.

The party is in Venice Beach, where the light is always golden and the air smells like salt and new money. The house is all faux-Mediterranean stucco and decorative vines, with a bouncer out front in a suit Fernando probably couldn’t buy with a year of his salary. It belongs to the producer on some bland, questionably indie movie that snagged an award it didn’t deserve at Sundance. There’s at least forty people lined up outside, all of them dressed in that understated chic that means they’re trying their hardest not to look like they’re trying.

The four of them brush past the entire line, turn every head and meet every scandalised eye, give the bouncer their most disinterested nods. 

He steps aside.

They make their way up three flights of stairs, weaving through shoals of tipsy party guests who all look far more out of their comfort zone here than they do. On the rooftop, there’s a fire pit under a trellis, flowering vines hanging down and perfuming the air. There are a few people sitting there, sipping champagne and making stilted small talk. Aria gives Christian a look. 

Christian steps forward, barrel chest puffed out and voice stern. “Can we get some space here?” The guests clear out, heads down, trying not not be too obvious with their stares as they pass by. With a practiced grace, Aria sweeps in behind Christian, sits down with his arms draped along the lip of the roof. Then he looks at Fernando over his sunglasses and smiles, slow and lascivious.

And oh, shit, Fernando is so screwed.

“Come on, Nando, sit next to me,” he says, and he’s still in character, still joking around, but Fernando’s slain anyway. He sinks down next to him. Aria’s hand slips down onto his shoulder.

“That was easier than usual,” Aria says in an undertone, and there’s the spark, there’s the trouble in his eyes that just kills him. “Want to see how far we can take it?”

Fernando snaps his fingers. “You know it.”

Aria raises his other hand, and a server materialises with a platter of champagne. Fernando reaches up to take a glass, handing it to Aria before he takes one for himself. 

Next to them, Eric takes his with a grin. “Let’s get a selfie while the sun’s still setting,” he says, pulling his phone out and angling it towards them.

“What did you have in mind?” Fernando murmurs as they pose, pressing close to one another to fit in the frame with Eric and Christian. 

Aria’s face is lit up in the dying light. His smiles make Fernando’s head swim, but his winks make his knees weak. “Just trust me,” he says. 

Fernando laughs, leaning into Aria’s touch. “I always do,” he says. “God help me, I always do.”


End file.
